


Silver and Red makes the Rookie

by Lizzy__Jaeger



Category: Original Work
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Character Death, Death, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Gen, How Do I Tag, I Tried, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Multi, My First Fanfic, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-25 21:29:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzy__Jaeger/pseuds/Lizzy__Jaeger
Summary: In the depths of hell, there's a separate plane-a pocket dimension-where the Angel of Death sits like a skeletal angel with blackened wings on a throne of bone and thorns. They command those that help them reap the souls of the dead, Reapers of flesh and bone that have still hearts and no soul. Reapers bleed, and they die and they come in many shapes and sizes.Angel of Death, or just simply Death, has seen many colors go with red in their long time on the job. Ranging from soft colors, to harsh colors.One color Death hasn't seen until recently, is silver. It is the color of a newly turned Reapers' hair and it oddly goes with his newly turned red eyes. What was his name again?---Or: I wrote a fic no one asked for instead of sleeping, but my friend encouraged me to post it anyway





	1. Death is tired but hides it well

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you can count this as a sort of prequel to a story I'm working on that's loosely based on an rp a friend and I had months ago. Please enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the depths of hell, there's a separate plane-a pocket dimension-where the Angel of Death sits like a skeletal angel with blackened wings on a throne of bone and thorns. They command those that help them reap the souls of the dead, Reapers of flesh and bone that have still hearts and no soul. Reapers bleed, and they die and they come in many shapes and sizes.
> 
> Angel of Death, or just simply Death, has seen many colors go with red in their long time on the job. Ranging from soft colors, to harsh colors.
> 
> One color Death hasn't seen until recently, is silver. It is the color of a newly turned Reapers' hair and it oddly goes with his newly turned red eyes. What was his name again?
> 
> \---
> 
> Or: I wrote a fic no one asked for instead of sleeping, but my friend encouraged me to post it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you can count this as a sort of prequel to a story I'm working on that's loosely based on an rp a friend and I had months ago. Please enjoy.

In the depths of hell, there's a separate plane-a pocket dimension-where the Angel of Death sits like a skeletal angel with blackened wings on a throne of bone and thorns. They command those that help them reap the souls of the dead, Reapers of flesh and bone that have still hearts and no soul. Reapers bleed, and they die and they come in many shapes and sizes.

Angel of Death, or just simply Death, has seen many colors go with red in their long time on the job. Ranging from soft colors, to harsh colors.

One color Death hasn't seen until recently, is silver. It is the color of a newly turned Reapers hair and it oddly goes with his newly turned red eyes. What was his name again?

The silver one trains hard in the following months, and after a year is violent and bloody once released into the field. The young Reaper looks like a mess with his hair stained in red, but there's something dark in their eyes that Death should see about. Death isn't sure what they did when they offered the silver one-ah, that's right, Syid-the option to become a Reaper but it may have unlocked something deep in the other's still heart.

Perhaps they should stop allowing the Reapers to keep their emotions. It seems like it's going to grow into an annoying problem sooner or later.

A soft red glow as pinprick irises and pupils could be seen in dark empty sockets, Death stared at the door to their "office", which was a small space connected to a throne room of grey stone where their throne sat. Large ornate doors separated the two rooms, and they usually didn't summon this room unless they needed to. The room itself had a desk with two chairs on the other side from the plush chair Death sat. Then, they waited.

They didn't have to wait for long, as the doors slammed open and a young man in a dark cloak that was tattered and flayed at the edges dark as night, red eyes alight and silver hair caked with blood.

"What did you do this time-" Death started, unamused.

"I didn't start it, I finished it. Give me another assignment." The reaper rookie-Syid-demanded them.

You don't just demand Death-

"Need a new Angel." Syid grunted then, before taking pause and huffed before adding, "Nevermind, let me go solo-"

"Denied." Death interrupted, deadpan despited not moving their jaw at all. They spoke telepathically, their voice the whispers of many rumbling in Syid's mind. Syid seemed to narrow his eyes, the temperature around them dropping about three degrees in the span of five seconds from the other's flaring temper at being denied.

Death didn't have to scruff a new Reaper often, but after making sure Syid went to the infirmary for more than injuries gained from demons, they had to melt ice from the floor and walls of their office with a heavy sigh from an unmoving mouth. One had to wonder how a pile of bones could sag.


	2. Death doesn't babysit, so they hire someone who will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death gets a few babysitters for the rookie, and their plan doesn't work out as well as they'd hope.

Death asks three experienced Reapers to watch over Syid until the rookie can get a new angel partner, and the three agree. Unfortunately, only one of them actually keeps a close eye out for Syid, a tall and lean Reaper with bangs that conceal their light red eyes and a penchant for barely speaking.

There's a scar along his throat, from the wound that led to his end.

His name is Hakan, a Reaper who was strong in life and quick on their feet, with heightened hearing Hakan could pick up some things others couldn't. Upon death he only talks when spoken to, his voice scratchy and hard to pick up at times. Death isn't sure if it pains the other to speak, but never bothered to ask.

Death just happens to be heading to the infirmary when an explosion sounds, and they stop as a body flies out of the whole in the wall where the door once was into the wall across from it. 

They stare as the reaper stands shakily, and realizes that it's Hakan, cloak singed and blood dripping from a wound hidden by pink bangs that runs down his chin as he's facing Syid. The rookie looks almost as bloody as he did when sent here, scorch marks dotted along the arms and cloak being the worst of it other than jumpy muscles. Death was reminded of Hakan's elemental affinity for lightning in that instance. Neither one notices Death's presence until they are only a few feet away and speaks.

"What happened?" Harsh whispers sounds like lashes on the ground, and both Reapers_ -subordinates, fledglings, idiots, unstable rabid dogs _-turn to face them with ruffled dragon like wings and-

Wait.

In an instant, Death walks, no glides, to Syid in speeds the rookie hasn't seen before and lashes out with an arm and outstretched fingers for the silver haired Reaper, who jerks back in an attempt to get away, fingers twitching and a flash of warm white light appears before his scythe is in his left hand at his summons, but Death already has him by his cloak and pulls him close in a jerky motion that makes him stumble.

Red meets unfocused red, and in a small exhale, Syid's breath comes out visible, the temperature dropping in seconds. Death doesn't let go as the other's eyes begin to clear if only slightly, and reaches behind the other to gently tug at one of the small, bloodstained appendages at his back. This earns a startled cry, and Syid swings his arm, scythe in hand.

Hakan moved to intervene, but is sluggish and too slow, so Death deals with it themself. Death's free arm goes to Syid's left arm and digs skeletal fingers into the flesh and muscle beneath until Syid flinches, arm jerking and twitching and scythe vanishing from the lack of focus and concentration towards protecting its wielder.

"I see you grew your wings. You're maturing rapidly. Let's hope you mature more mentally as a result. Hakan, clean up then put a full report on my desk. You'll continue your duties as a Reaper after some needed rest." They hummed thoughtfully. Hakan hesitated, appearing to glance between the two, before taking a shaky breath that sounded more like a wheeze than anything.

"Understood." He nodded, then stumbled out of the hall carefully with only one last look the two's way.

Death let go of Syid, letting the other clutch his arm with labored breaths.

"_You fool_." Death hissed like a nest of vipers as he hoisted Syid to his feet.

"_You're testing my patience, go back to bed if there are any left_**_ and stay there until you completely heal_**." They growl like a pack of angry dogs, and Syid stares blankly with his mouth held tight in a thin line, the gears turning too slow as they get clogged from the thick gunk that's known as pain, the words of the Angel of Death a thick smog that rests there as a pounding headache starts. 

  


Syid's sure he hears Death click their tongue, unless he's finally lost his waning sanity and is imagining things now, growing too tired by the minute as the temperatures return to their previous degrees and the weight in his stomach lessens just a bit. Death takes him back into the remains of the infirmary, cracked and broken ice stalagmites melting near an upturned bed. Simply tacking Syid deeper into what's left of the room they drop his barely conscious form on a bed just as the sounds of someone rushing into the room are heard.

"What-" the newcomer stops and blinks as they meet eyes with Death. Slim, around average height for a twenty year old human male, blonde hair that Death calls 'poofy' and skin that's two tones, like splotches of cream against choco.

Death then remembers the word vitiligo, but not the newcomers name. Just that they're the nurse assigned here to this wing, and for some reason only their eye color changed upon death. A rarity these days.

"What happened?" The blonde speaks again after regaining their composure, narrowed eyes turning to Death with answers. They can't help but feel as if they were in the wrong, and would of been amused if already not in a sour mood.

"Ask him when he wakes." Death replies, moving to the exit before the other blocks their path.

It seems that Syid had rubbed off a bit on the nurse. Death stares at Reaper, who stares back, seeming to be studying them for a moment before huffing and finally moving aside, his dark feathered wings ruffled.

"I should be getting paid for this." He grumbled, only to be ignored as Death made their way to their office.

If they could get headaches, Death's sure they'd be forming one right about now. Later, in what Death is sure around midnight in the living realm, he find a partner for Syid on his next mission. They hope that this will help the young one gain the control he needs.

Death doesn't hope for much often, but things are ever changing. They also makes a note to give two certain Reapers the same mission as Syid. After all, Syid has been messy when he goes on missions and _someone_ has to clean it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment if you want, and I'll try and reply to most of them. Oh yeah this is crossposted on fanfiction under Kimmy-1016, but updates will be slower over there.

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta figure out posting things to AO3, but leave a comment if ya want? I might add another chapter or two when I get time.


End file.
